


Did You See Them?

by marius_new_hat_and_coat



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Gen, Songfic, technically anyways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marius_new_hat_and_coat/pseuds/marius_new_hat_and_coat
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of the June Rebellion, a group of women arrive at the wreckage of the barricade.





	Did You See Them?

Did you see them going off to fight?

And did you see the women arrive when the gunfire stopped? They were clearing away the remains of the barricade. Do you know who they are?

Did you see the young woman who appeared first? How her beautiful eyes were so wide with fear? She looked around the wreckage before her eyes paused on two of the fallen young men. They must have known each other- why, one of them had clearly held the other as he died, tried to stop the bleeding from a gunshot to the chest, only to be killed himself. Did you see Musichetta collapse beside them, weeping and whispering apologies and goodbyes they would never hear?

Did you see the mothers? Did you see the old woman being guided by her son, and did you see the boy’s guilt? His brother died there. Killed by soldiers with bayonets. The boy remembers hearing his brother speak of politics and science and medicine, but most importantly of freedom, and he can’t remember why he wasn’t at the barricade with him. He could have been... He is barely two years younger than his brother. Younger boys than him died that day. But his poor mother is holding is arm too tight, looking down at her older son, and he knows he should be grateful she didn’t lose two children today. And what of the mother who came alone? The artist who was already informed of her son’s execution? She came to the barricade anyways, maybe looking for answers, but more likely looking for comfort. It will not come for a long time.

Did you see the aunts? One of the mothers is too poor to live in Paris, so she told her sister to look after her boy. He had not been left to die on the streets. He’d been laid to rest in the alley behind the barricade, right next to the body of a miserable young woman, but she is not focused on her. She is kneeling beside her nephew, afraid to touch him. Afraid to confirm that he’s gone. She remembers him as a little boy, kicking stones across the street, and as a young man, leaving home for his first day of law school. But it’s easier to think of the little boy than the young man. The young man became a martyr.

Did you see the nieces? The young mother scrubbing her brother-in-law’s blood off the cobblestones? Her daughter is still too young to understand death, and so it is that she looks at her uncle with confusion, not sadness. She asks if she should wake him. The mother stops her work, looks up, and blinks back tears. Her brother-in-law’s coat is beginning to look threadbare- she recalls him saying he’d given his only spare to a friend and never found time to get a new one. That sounded like him. The mother holds her daughter close and sighs, “He’s not going to wake up, darling.”

Did you see the wives? Did you hear the screams when a young bride found her husband murdered, when the other women tried and failed to hold her back? She fell beside him, held him as if she could bring him back to life, sobbed bitterly as if a part of her had died. And it had. He still has flecks of paint on his hands, a souvenir of his miserable job as a fanmaker, and it’s not _right_ , she screams. It shouldn’t have ended like this. It’s not right. It’s not fair. The mothers and the sisters look away from her, letting her grieve. They hadn’t known the man was married. Perhaps the other revolutionaries hadn’t either, because if they had, they should have sent him away. His wife is right. It wasn’t fair.

Did you see the sisters? The dark-haired girl, barely an adult, who cannot find her brother among the fallen? She _knows_ he was there, she _knows_ he wouldn’t abandon his friends, but he is not on the barricade. All at once she stops short. Her sobs pause momentarily as she gazes at the gaping hole that was the entrance to the Corinth, a name her brother mentioned once, and as if in a trance she walks inside. It’s in ruin. Chairs and tables used as weapons, tossed to all sides of the room, corpses fallen on their way to the stairs. She does her best to ignore them as she ascends. The sounds from the street are muffled, making the wine shop eerily silent, and she’s horribly aware of her own heart beating in her chest. The room upstairs is illuminated by slowly fading sunlight streaming through the broken window, but that is not where her attention is drawn. She has found her brother. He is dead, fallen at the feet of a smiling golden-haired boy who is still standing against the wall, as if he had never died at all. There’s something very bittersweet about it. The scene is almost triumphant, almost angelic, and yet that doesn’t change the fact that both of them are dead.

Did you see the father? Did you see that he wore the uniform of the National Guard? He did not fight that day, but he had heard rumors that his son was leading this band of revolutionaries. He doesn’t dare go into the street of the barricade, knowing his presence will not be welcome, but he watches as all the bodies are carried away. There’s just one he’s looking for. And all at once, there he is- his son. The son he hasn’t spoken to in years. The son who was shot eight times. The son, dead and defeated, who is smiling serenely and defiantly from beyond the grave. His father does not react. He just nods once, turns, and leaves the barricade behind.

When the dead are all gone, the women remain. They need each other. Nothing but emptiness resides in this gutted-out street, this street where so many fought so hard for a new world. The sons and nephews, husbands and uncles, lovers and friends and brothers- their fight is over. And yet they changed nothing.

Where’s that new world now the fighting’s done?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry! That’s Angsty!
> 
> I think about “Turning” a lot, because it’s really one of my favorite songs in the whole musical, but it’s also super underrated. Thus... there’s this. Just some of my thoughts and headcanons on who Les Amis left behind.


End file.
